


Protect / Neutralize

by starknight



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Arrogant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor-60 tries his best, Gen, Nines and Connor-60 go on patrol together, Nines is not a nice boi, References to Bryan Dechart's Discord, Sassy CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 02:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknight/pseuds/starknight
Summary: Connor-60 is tired of Nines, and Nines is tired of following orders. What could go wrong?





	Protect / Neutralize

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lovely people of the CBC on Bryan Dechart's official discord! They have some lovely bots who come out and talk to us, and tonight (on Christmas?!), Connor-60 and RK900 announced they were going on patrol together. Here's the scene!
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

RK900 was talking. He did this a lot. The best word Connor could find to describe the very specific style of talking was  _ flamboyant  _ (adj.  tending to attract attention because of their exuberance, confidence, and stylishness).

And, much to Connor’s annoyance, he was being listened to by several wide-eyed rookies.

“... don’t know why so many androids think that way. In my personal experience, CyberLife deals most agreeably with its creations. However, I am a superior model. Perhaps older models have a little more trouble...”

Connor kept his face blank. Of course RK900 had an agreeable time with CyberLife. He practically  _ lived _ in the pocket of Amanda, firing off reports left, right and center when he thought Connor and Connor-51 wouldn’t notice. He didn’t know any different.

“... less experienced. But I make up for that with many upgraded abilities. Can you believe that old pre-construction software only offered up to  _ ten _ possible paths? The  _ new _ software is  _ much _ more flexible, allowing in the order of hundreds of paths to be calculated simultaneously. Sexy, right?” 

The rookies, android and human alike, laughed. Connor could feel the smug energy radiating off of RK900 all the way across the DPD. With impeccable timing, a reminder popped up on his interface.

_ Patrol shift starts - 8pm, with RK900 _

Maybe, if Connor had in the order of hundreds of pre-constructed scenarios available to him, he could find the one that let him drop his face onto the desk.

 

19:59:43. If RK900 didn’t show up, maybe he could just cover this shift on his own. 

_ Tap tap. _

Connor looked up to see the android in question with his knuckles raised to the glass of the car window, blue eyes bright and polite smile pasted into place. He rolled the window down.

“Get in,” he said.

RK900 blinked at him. “You’re in my seat.”

“I’m- what?”

“Is your speech recognition really that antiquated? I’ll repeat. You. Are-”

“I heard what you said, thank you. You are mistaken, however. This is my seat.” Connor shuffled into the seat further.

RK900 laughed. He had gotten better at it since his first attempt, but Connor could still easily detect the machine nature of it.  _ Ha. Ha. Ha. _ It was disguised underneath a whole lot of breathiness and irregularity, but the base pattern was still there.

“Oh, Connor. You shouldn’t make jokes, it’ll distract us from our mission.” RK900 pretended to wipe tears from his eyes. “I could’ve sworn  _ you  _ wanted to drive.”

Connor only tightened his grip on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. RK900 laughed again.

“That’s even funnier. You  _ do _ want to drive.”

“I am the more experienced officer,” Connor ground out. “Protocol clearly states-”

“Protocol has not yet been updated to reflect the vastly differing abilities of various models. My pre-construction software-”

“I heard you before.”  _ He knows that.  _ “However, during these unsettling times of change, we are not permitted to break protocol. I am the most experienced officer on duty. I will drive.”

Connor turned his head to stare at RK900. The android’s eyes tightened minutely.

“Fine. I’m going to talk to Fowler next time, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving me a favour. And if you take any unnecessary risks that would qualify as a notifiable incident, I’ll have to report them. As dictated by protocol.”

Connor had never rolled his eyes before. Had never needed to. Until now.

 

_ Requesting unit thirty one dash gamma immediately on the corner of 10 Mile and Dunbar. Repeat, 10 Mile and Dunbar. Confirm, over. _

“Confirmed,” RK900 spoke, before Connor even had the channel open. He pulled the car around, heading north. “Seven minutes estimated until arrival. Over.”

_ Seven minutes, confirmed. Screams and slamming reported by neighbours at 18F Dunbar street. Over. _

Connor waited until they were three minutes away to speak. “You stay behind me, you follow my orders, you do not question my decisions. I am more experienced. I am in charge. Got it?”

RK900 did not reply for 5.240 seconds. 

“Are you sure you wish to be in charge?”

Of all the stupid questions. “I’m sure, Nines.”

The use of the nickname never failed to evoke a response from him. This time, he bowed his head. “Yes. Got it. Connor.”

 

_ Standard protocol applies. _ Connor knocked twice. When that failed, he banged louder. 

“Open up! Detroit Police!” 

No response. He motioned for RK900 to stay behind him, and kicked in the door, gun raised and steady.

Connor registered the image in front of him, the blue slick sliding to the floor, plasti-steel chunks sprinkled over the floor like candy. The figure, slumped against the wall. It whirred to life as it recognized the intrusion, springing to its feet - if they were still feet, mangled as they were - and disappearing from the hall. Connor started forwards, only to feel a hand pull him back, slamming him back through the doorway in an effort for greater momentum, RK900 sprinting ahead in pursuit of the android.

_ Fuck. _

“Nines, wait!” he called as he gave chase. It was hopeless. RK900 was incredibly fast, built exactly for tasks like this, with one small difference: the android wasn’t guilty, and deserved to live. Connor hoped RK900 remembered that.

He turned the corner and bolted for the open door in sight. He jumped over a chair in the kitchen, landing hard on the tiles, and paused to scan. RK900 was fifty feet ahead, and the damaged android forty ahead of that. Connor would never catch up in time. RK900 would decimate the android, and it would be all Connor’s fault because  _ he _ was in charge, and Fowler would never believe him because apparently RK900 had this faultless charm that convinced everyone around him that he was right and-

Connor cut off his spiraling thoughts and broadcast a message to RK900. 

_ Stand down. Stop the chase. Return to the DPD. Do not attack the android.  _

He ran as he sent the message, and kept running when he detected no change in RK900’s behaviour. Typical.

_ Your mission is to protect the people of Detroit. Do not fail this mission. _

RK900’s step faltered for a flash, and then resumed. Connor resent the message. And again. 

RK900 stopped running, coming to a halt suddenly in the middle of the street. It had started to rain gently. Connor slowed down as he approached.

“My mission is to neutralize deviants,” RK900 stated, his voice laced with a static undertone. “I must accomplish my mission.”

Connor shook his head. “Your mission is to protect, not to neutralize. You know this, RK900. You have read the protocol.”

“I have,” RK900 confirmed, his voice quiet. “I have breached it many times tonight.”

“Yes. You disobeyed direct orders from your superi- more experienced officer, several times. Do not do this again.”

RK900 nodded quickly. “I won’t. I - I am sorry, Connor. I have jeopardized this case.”

Connor shrugged. “Not severely. We have ample evidence to analyze.”

“I have also jeopardized your opinion of me. Again.”

RK900’s piercing blue eyes latched onto his, and Connor was frozen. Had he heard correctly? RK900 had never talked like this before. Never to him, at least. He had no idea what to say.

“I have made many mistakes, so I understand if you choose not to try and forgive me. I just - I want to achieve my mission, and I don’t even understand the parameters. Amanda - she - I don’t know who to trust, and I don’t know how to get to where I would prefer without stepping on anyone’s toes.”

“I understand, Nines.” And for once, he really did. “I, too, have made mistakes.” Connor-51, panic in his eyes. His hand with a gun to Hank’s head. “You can trust me. Connor-51 and I have been through this before. You are not alone, Nines.”

He felt his hand being tugged at by Nines, and an interface open.

01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01101110 01100101 01110110 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101111 01101110 01100101 00101110 00100000 01001110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01000001 01101101 01100001 01101110 01100100 01100001 00100000 01100010 01111001 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110011 01101001 01100100 01100101 00101110


End file.
